


stained glass variation of the truth

by sebstanau



Series: this tired white flag [1]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Break Up, Depression, Everything is Beautiful and Everything Hurts, Getting Better™, Heartbreak, M/M, Pining, Steve Rogers Has Issues, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, get ready for an overuse of italics and no communication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2017-02-28
Packaged: 2018-09-23 21:47:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9680162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sebstanau/pseuds/sebstanau
Summary: Bucky stood up and simply walked away. Just like that. With each pounding of his foot pattern walking through the hallway, Steve felt his heart crack more and more. He inhaled sharply, and blinked furiously, attempting to rid those tears that began to well.or when steve thought they were going to be okay, but then they weren't. and it hurt.





	

**Author's Note:**

> okay sorry for this. also angsty but no like really bad trigger warnings or anything, just slight infidelity and a noncon kiss but nothing further 
> 
> also steve mentioning suicide but its so small that u have to squint to see it
> 
> title from neptune by sleeping at last
> 
> ALSO I ACCIDENTALLY POSTED THIS TWICE SO IF U READ THIS AND THEN U LOST IT ITS BC I DELETED THE OTHER VERSION

He and Bucky looked at each other, wide grins spreading across their faces. This was the pinnacle of their relationship, and nothing would ever compare to it.

Bucky was sitting across from him at the table, in one of the best restaurants in New York. A strand of Bucky’s hair was misplaced and fell across the side of his face. His eyes shined bright, love laced in his pupils. He looked so beautiful, Steve felt his breath catch every time he looked up to see him.

Bucky nudged his foot under the table. “Do you know what you’re getting yet?”

Steve smiled slightly. “Whatever you are.” He replied, it coming out a lot fonder than expected.

Bucky snorted across the table. “Idiot.” He smiled, making eye contact with Steve. He could feel his breath hitch once more. He couldn’t believe it still. This was _his_ boyfriend.

Steve kicked Bucky’s foot in retaliation, smirking when Bucky jumps slightly. The waitress came over, and took their orders. “The same for me and him.” Bucky ended his order, closing the menu shut.

Steve blushed slightly. He wasn’t even sure why. Maybe it was because of the way Bucky looked at him, the way Bucky made him feel. Like he was important. Like he was special.

“What are you thinking about, punk?” Bucky asked.

“Just us.” Steve declared.

“What about us?” He replied with his eyebrows raised. Steve chuckled quietly at the sight.

“The fact that we’ve been here for so long, Buck. I can’t believe we’ve been dating for two years.”

Bucky grinned at that. “Me too, punk.” They spent a moment staring at each other, memorizing the fine lines of the other’s face. Just in case. In case there was one day that he wouldn’t be sitting in front of him, the both of them _this_ happy.

“I love you.” Steve said sincerely, face completely serious.

“I love you too.”

 

\------------

 

If there was one thing Steve was good at, it was sensing the end. He knew months before anything big would happen. Some may call him pessimistic, assuming the worst of a few small moments. But Steve knew it was more than that. Maybe it was the way that he experienced this _so fucking much_ that he knew all of the signs inside out.

He got the feeling way before Peggy left him. He knew by small conversations, insignificant actions, that something was coming up. The way the conversation ended sooner than usual, the constant questions about how he would feel to move, the way she stopped brushing her thumb against his hand.

It was a few months after their anniversary that he got that feeling. Bucky was staying late at his job most days of the week, getting fewer days off, dry replies to his text messages. But Steve had hope. Him and Bucky were twenty years in the making, that all can’t go away with a few bad weeks, right?

Steve needed a second opinion. He picked up his phone and dialled Sam’s number. He was Steve’s best friend (after Bucky of _course_ ) and he was one of the most level-headed people Steve knew. He was honest, a trait of his which Steve always admired. He would tell you the truth, no matter how hard it would be,  but still say it in the softest way possible. Steve was certain that Sam would help him.

It took a few rings until Sam picked. “Ello?”

“Hey, Sam. Not to like, plunge into the deep shit right away but I need you to be honest with me, okay? 100%, no bullshit, okay? Promise me?” Steve replied, not beating around the bush.

“Um, okay? Are you going to tell me what this is about?” Sam questioned through the phone.

“Is Bucky acting weird? Like do you,” Steve inhaled sharply. “Do you think he’s gonna, leave me?” He ended quietly and uncertain.

“What? Steve, I think you need to chill, okay man? There’s no way in hell Barnes is leaving you.” Sam exclaimed, sounding weirded out by the mere idea.

Steve let out a breath that he didn’t even know he was holding. “Are you sure, man? Because I don’t know what to do. He seems really fucking distant, and, yeah.” He trailed off, not quite sure how to word his feelings.

“Steveee, man, you’ve got to be kidding me. Just ask him to go to dinner with you, or something like that. When was the last time he said no to a date?”

“Never.” Steve murmured, sheepishly,

“Okay! Then ask him out. Everything’s going to be okay.” Sam comforted through the phone. Steve heard his apartment door open, Bucky’s footsteps trailing through the halls.

“Sam, I think he’s home okay? So I’m gonna ask him now.” Steve replied, feeling more confident than earlier.

“Go get him, tiger.” Sam laughed through the phone, Steve joining in. They hung up after saying their goodbye’s. Steve put his phone down, and stuck his head through their bedroom door.

He walked down the hallway to the living room, where Bucky was currently lounging on the couch.

He was in casual clothing, a simple white t-shirt with black jeans. Steve frowned and furrowed his brows. That’s not Bucky’s work attire. He shook it off, blaming it on paranoia.

He sat down next to Bucky, resting his head on his boyfriend’s shoulders. He could feel Bucky’s body tense slightly, his overall body language adding up to being uncomfortable. Steve deepened his frowned.

“Hey,” Steve started out unsurely, “I was wondering if you wanted to go out later. For dinner.” He felt anxiety run through the course of his veins, pumping straight from his heart.

He didn’t want to look up and see his boyfriend’s reaction. He heard his heart pound even louder, providing more anxiety into his bloodstream.

Bucky shifted off Steve, so his head would no longer be resting on his shoulder.”I’m actually tired from work, I think I’m gonna shower and rest.”

Bucky stood up and simply walked away. Just like that. With each pounding of his foot pattern walking through the hallway, Steve felt his heart crack more and more. He inhaled sharply, and blinked furiously, attempting to rid those tears that began to well.

He took a deep breath and turned on the television, trying to ignore the hollowness and nausea that began to grow.

 

\-----

 

It’s been 28 days since Steve told Bucky he loved him. Over a month since Bucky said it to Steve. Steve hates the fact that he knows when things are going to end.

 

\----

 

It took 20 more days for them to exchange those three words once again. It was almost two months into this weird tension between the two of them, that it finally broke. Or what Steve wished would break it.

It was morning, and Steve awoke to the sun shining onto his pale body. He felt the emptiness beside him on the bed, and it hadn’t even disturbed him. It was just a _thing_ for him to wake up without Bucky. Exactly how it was a thing for them to not touch, not even wrap around each other in their sleep, instead leaving a gap between the two of them.

The more Steve thought about it, he was discomforted by the fact that waking up without Bucky didn’t even concern him anymore.

He got out of bed feeling eerie and out of place. He walked towards the kitchen, where Bucky was currently sitting at the island with a cup of coffee.

Steve got himself a mug from the cupboard, and filled it with coffee. The smell of caffeine sending warmth through his bones. He still hadn’t said anything to Bucky yet, and it wasn’t even fucking weird for that anymore.

Only 4 months ago, Steve would’ve been able to wrap his arms around Bucky’s waist, and nuzzle his face into his neck. Now, Steve could barely hold up a conversation with Bucky that didn’t end prematurely. He couldn’t even fucking tell his boyfriend ‘good morning’.

Steve dropped down on the seat next to Bucky, making sure not to spill his mug of coffee. As soon as he was seated, he took a sip of the hot caffeine, letting it burn the back of his throat. The pain soothed him for a second, took him away from reality.

“Morning.” Steve rasped, voice hoarse from sleep and burn of coffee. Bucky made a noncommittal noise in response.

Steve rolled his eyes, done with his partner’s attitude. He couldn’t even fucking _talk_ to Steve anymore, not even reply half-assedly.

“Okay, Bucky, what the fuck?” Steve asked incredulously. Bucky put down his phone in shock, looking like he was ambushed. “What the _fuck_ is happening between us.”

“I, I’m not sure what you mean.” Bucky muttered quietly, feigning confusion. Steve rolled his eyes.

“You damn right know what I mean, Buck. Just tell me what is happening okay?” Steve said, taking down his guard moderately. He wanted Bucky to know he was able to come in, that the walls were already broken down.

“Okay, fine.” Bucky sighed. “Works been making me work overtime a lot, and I didn’t want you to be worried.” He ended, his left eyebrow moving slightly up. He was lying, Steve could see it on his face. His eyebrow was always a telltale sign, something so slight but Steve had seen it everytime he lied to his mom, teachers, anybody really. Anybody but Steve.

“Are you sure?” Steve queried back, attempting to get him to open up. “There’s nothing else? At all?”

“Yeah, I know I should’ve told you, but you always worry so much.” Bucky chuckled falsely, and it pained Steve because everything in that sentence sounded so _forced_. Steve took a deep breath.

“So, what you’re saying,” Steve started slowly, almost as if he was talking to a child, “Is that we haven’t said we loved each other in, wait let me check, fucking _fifty-eight_ days because of work?” He deadpanned.

Bucky looked like a deer in the headlights, and like he wasn’t sure how to approach the situation. Why couldn’t he just tell Steve the fucking truth?

“Yep.” Bucky calmly stated, after recomposing himself. Okay, Steve guesses, he’s just going to take the easy way out and lie some more. “I know, I’m sorry, but I love you Steve. You know I do.”

Steve felt his eyes water and blinked away his oncoming tears before Bucky could notice. “Yeah, I know you do. Love you too.” Steve tried to say without his voice cracking and failing miserably. He’s not even sure if Bucky noticed, but he grabbed Steve’s hand, and Steve thought for the first time in months that it was going to be okay.

Until the moment only lasted for five seconds and Bucky gave his hand another squeeze, before letting go. Bucky brought his (in a past life he would’ve at least offered to bring Steve’s) dishes to the sink and departed to his bedroom.

You know what they say, Steve thought bitterly. Ignorance is bliss.

 

\-----

 

Steve can’t remember the last day they went without fighting for the past month.

He tried to recollect his memories and figure out if they were as bad as Steve thought. And they were. There wasn’t a single fucking day they spent without fighting, whether it was big or small.

Most nights Steve slept over at Sam’s or Sharon’s. Sometimes Bucky stayed at Natasha’s place.

It was really the end.

 

\----

 

Neither of them was sure how the fight started, but they were both aware that this wasn’t going to end up alright. This was hands down one of the shittest fights they’ve ever gotten in.

“Then why the fuck do you keep lying to me about working, Bucky? I’ve known you since we were both fucking twelve years old, I know how you look when you lie!” Steve shouted at Bucky. They were both in the living room, standing up, hurling harsh words at each other.

“Why do _you_ keep lying to me about Sharon? I know you have a fucking thing for her.” Bucky countered, rage distilling through his voice. His hair was a mess from running his hands through it so much, his eyes wide.

Steve chuckled darkly. “Are you seriously getting jealous over fucking nothing right now? Is that what you’ve stooped to, Buck?”

“What do you mean _nothing?_ ” Bucky screamed. " _You’re always sleeping over at her place.”_

“I’m only at hers because of _you_. I’m sorry for not wanting to be in the same fucking bed as you when you make sure there’s fucking exactly three inches between us.” Steve exclaimed sarcastically.  “Do you think I’m sleeping with Sam too?”

“I can’t fucking deal with this.” Bucky muttered, shaking his head. He was putting on his fucking shoes and grabbing his coat. What the fuck? He thinks he can fight with Steve for _almost an hour_ , say that he’s cheating, and then  _he’s the one who walks out?_ “We just. We need time to cool off.”

“What the fuck? You’re just walking out, right now?” Steve shouted after his retreating figure.

“I need, I just need some space right now. Please don’t do anything, don’t do anything to yourself, okay?” Bucky nodded off before opening the door, hesitating ever so slightly.

“So fucking typical of you. Just get out.”

Of fucking course, he thought that as soon as he left Steve would just fucking kill himself or something. He isn’t that fucking fragile. Maybe he should just do it out of fucking spite.

Steve took a few deep breaths. He was mad right now, he shouldn’t. He wouldn’t. He needed to talk to someone, talk to anyone. But he fucking couldn’t. He couldn’t talk to Natasha, or Clint, let alone fucking Bucky.

Without thinking, Steve picked up his car keys and stormed out of the house. He needed to go, he needed to be anywhere but fucking here. With everything that smelt like Bucky, reminded him of Bucky. _Bucky, Bucky, Bucky._ It was all about fucking Bucky.

Before he even knew where he was, he stopped at a house. He went up the familiar porch and knocked on the door.

Sharon Carter opened it. “Steve?” She asked looking concerned. “What’s up? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, me and Bucky just had a fight.” He mumbled. She looked surprised for a second, he eyes widening. They got into fights all the time, sure, but this was the most upset she ever saw Steve. She recomposed herself.

“Come in, come in.” She stepped aside, letting him inside the house. “Can I get you anything? Tea, maybe?”

Steve laughed darkly, no humour present in his tone. “If you can spike it with vodka, that’d be fine.” Sharon looked at Steve concerned and led him towards the couch. She sat down along with Steve.

“What happened?” She queried, concern and sympathy lacing her voice. “Only if you wanna talk about it, of course.”

Steve inhaled sharply, shut his eyes and tilted his head backwards. Without opening his eyes he choked out to his friend, “He came home from ‘work’ but was like. Obviously drinking. I could fucking smell alcohol off him. It just, it got heated so fucking fast. He even said-.” He stopped mid-sentence, shaking his head. “Nevermind.”

Sharon rested her hand on his thigh and patted gently. “What did he say?”

“He said that he thought I liked you, and it was just him being fucking jealous. For no goddamn reason.” Steve continued, shame on his face. He wasn’t feeling comfortable _at all_. He wasn’t quite sure but he had that vibe, that voice. The voice in his head which screamed at him to _leave_ ,

“Hm, that’s funny.” Sharon agreed, distractedly

“Yeah, I _know,_ I don’t fucking understand. It’s just like he always _reads_ into thin-” Steve began to rant, before being cut off by Sharon’s mouth pressed against his. What the fuck.

Steve froze for a couple seconds out of shock. He wasn’t sure what to do and was utterly confused. He didn’t kiss back once he realized what was happening, but instead, he pulled back.

“Stop.” Steve murmured, pulling away from his _friend._ Just his fucking friend. He stumbled up from the couch. “What the _fuck_ , Sharon? I just, I fucking can’t.” Steve moved clumsily towards the door and pulled on his shoes before slamming the door behind him.

As soon as he left her house, the harsh cold wind hit him and he shivered. He rushed inside of the car, trying to calm down. He didn’t know what the fuck to do, where the fuck to go.

His mind was all over the place, and who the _fuck_ did Sharon think she was? Steve was still in a fucking relationship. Steve choked up as soon as he thought that, tears coming to his eyes. _Was he still in a relationship?_

He turned on the ignition and drove. He tried to drive anywhere, let the road take him to somewhere new. Somewhere away from here. Away from all the fucking bullshit, his mistakes, _everything._

He made it about ten minutes into the drive until pulling the car to the side. All the fucking music on the radio was sad and he couldn’t deal with it anymore.

He was trying not to cry, to hold in his tears, but he didn’t know _how_ to. His heart was pounding and anxiety was running through his veins.

He couldn’t fucking hold in the tears and they just started to pour out. And Steve fucking hated it. He hated how weak it made him, hated that he knew he fucked up, he hated fucking everything.

While crying, he picked up his phone, dialling Bucky’s number as quick as possible. He didn’t care that he was a fucking wreck right now, he needed to talk to Bucky. He just, he fucking. He couldn’t do anything else.

It took a couple rings, and Steve felt his eyes well up with more tears at the thought of Bucky not answering. He finally did at the last second, when it was about to go to voicemail.

“B-bucky. I’m so sorry.” Steve hiccuped into the phone before Bucky could say anything else.“ Sharon just kissed me, and I’m just, I’m so fucking sorry. It didn’t mean anything to me, and I, I just I can’t-.” Steve cut himself off by crying.

“I fucking knew it.” Bucky snapped. He paused. “I think we’re over, Steve.”

Steve’s mind stopped. “What do you _mean that we’re over?_ You can’t just push me away for fucking _months_ and then end it.” Steve sobbed wetly. “You’re in my fucking veins, you’re a part of me, you can’t just _leave.”_

Steve knew he was being petulant right now, but he had grown up with Bucky. _He’s nothing without him._  Even when he had nothing, no other friends, barely any money, he still had fucking Bucky. He thought he would always have Bucky.

“I’m sorry, Steve.” Bucky said, voice hoarse. At least this was hard for him too, Steve thought bitterly. “I think we were better off as friends, I just, have a good night, Stevie.”

And Bucky hung up the phone.

It ended too quickly, Steve thought (before he reprimanded himself in his brain and reminded himself that this had been coming for months, And he knew it too).

Steve let out an ugly sob, all of his emotions pouring out with the tears that followed. He doesn’t know how long he spent by the side of the road just crying, but his throat was starting to feel sore and rough. His eyes were burning and he was afraid to look at himself in the rearview mirror.

With shaky hands, he turned the ignition on, and drive home _(which was a word that made Steve’s heartache at the moment because Bucky was his fucking home and he has no idea where to go now)_ as carefully as possible.

 

\-------

 

He heard Sam knock at his door. Asking if he was okay.

Steve didn’t answer, instead let another silent sob run through his body.

He heard Sam’s footsteps trail down the hall.

 

\------

It was alright. Steve swore it was going to be alright. He took a few deep breaths. It’s been fucking weeks since him and Bucky talked. Since Bucky hung up on him in the car. Steve had considered driving the car into a ditch. He really wished that he did.

The warning signs were all there, he was sure of that. They just didn’t realize until it was too late. That’s how all great tragedies end, isn’t it? Romeo and Juliet. If only they would’ve _talk_ if they reassured each other that they were going to be okay. Achilles and Patroclus. They could’ve talked to each other about the inevitable war that would wreck havoc on their lives. They could’ve just looked _out_ for warning signs and looked _after_ each other. The two pairs relationship ended up in each other’s demise.

That was really fucking something, Steve thought. All of these people that swore to love each other till the end of time. Till the end of the fucking line. And they all ended up being the reason for their better half’s death.

Steve prayed that he and Bucky weren’t going to be like that. Weren’t going to be like them. But he knew that that was all a fantasy.

Steve should’ve fucking known better. He grew up with the ideology about how true love was fake, and he threw it all away. He ripped all his fucking walls to shreds, knocked them over with a bulldozer, _all for Bucky._

He untangled himself from the sheets he had been wrapped around for the past few weeks.They needed a wash, a voice said distantly from the back of his brain. He ignored it.

He went to the kitchen, scrummaging the cupboards. Nothing was appetizing, the mere thought of eating made him feel sick. He scavenged through his brain, attempting to remember the last time he ate. He thinks it was toast that Sam made him eat the day before, after practically breaking down his door. Fuck it.

He went out onto his and Buck-, fuck no, just _his_ balcony. He grabbed out his case of cigarettes and a lighter on his way out. He barely smoked, not wanting to potentially trigger his childhood asthma. But right now he needed it.

He needed fucking _something_ , needed to feel something. Even if that ‘something’ was the burn in his throat from the cigarette smoke, Steve didn’t care.

He placed the cigarette into two if his fingers, lighting it. The small heat from the lighter grounding him, the fire making him feel slightly surreal. He inhaled.

Bucky was the first of them that started to smoke, Steve reminiscent. They were young, the fresh age of 15, when Bucky started to smoke them. He made a huge deal not to smoke around Steve, not wanting to irritate his best friend’s lungs. It wasn’t until Senior year that Steve started to smoke, mainly because it relieved his stress.

Steve felt fond for just a few seconds before realizing what had happened. Before remembering that Bucky wasn’t in his life anymore. He wanted to throw up, or die, maybe both,

Steve put out his cigarette on the ashtray bitterly. He went inside, and shut the balcony door loudly, before crawling back into his sheets.

He tried to forget that this was the first time he left the bed since what had happened. He fell asleep before Sam came back from work.

 

\--------

 

He woke up groggily, a few hours later. He heard Sam’s voice from the hallway, his feet pacing up and down.

“I _think_ he’s getting better, Ri. I’m 95% sure he left his bed today but only because the ashes in the tray were still burning a little.”

He heard a break of silence, and assumed that whoever he was talking to was replying.

“I _know,_ I _know_ , but it just. It hurts so much to see him like this.” Sam croaked, his voice breaking. Steve frowned.

Steve tuned out the rest of the conversation and buried himself underneath the sheets again.

 

\------

 

It’s been three months.

Three months since Bucky tore his heart from his chest when it was still fucking _beating_ , clutched it so tightly that the blood began to pour out of it and threw it on the ground. Then walked all over it like it was a part of the fucking floor design. Like the red from the blood had been there on purpose, like it was painted on.

But, other than that, Steve was doing alright. Kinda.

He’s been leaving his bed at least once a day (instead of once a week), talked to Sam whenever they were both home (instead of ignoring his pleas for Steve to open up the door) and even updated Sam on his well-being when Sam wasn’t home.

So all in all, he was getting better.

Steve decided to do something a little more out of his comfort zone today. He was going to eat breakfast (maybe even _make_ coffee if there was none) and then shower.

It may seem like a simple task to most people, but Steve had barely been leaving his bed for over nine weeks. He fucking, he couldn’t do it. He was so fucking exhausted all the time, and he _couldn’t_.

So, Steve got the fuck up from bed and headed towards the kitchen. Thankfully Sam wasn’t home right now. Steve didn’t think he would be able to handle _that_ much today.

He sighed from relief when he noticed that Sam had made enough coffee for the two of them. Thank fucking god.

Steve grabbed a mug from the cupboard and poured the coffee into the mug. It was still fresh and hot, steam coming off from the top of the mug.

It wasn’t until he lifted the cup to his mouth that he realized that it was Bucky’s mug. Bucky’s favourite mug.

_“Hey!” Steve yelled at Bucky while chasing him across the new apartment. They had saved enough money for a new place and decided to move in together._

_Bucky swerved between the furniture, Steve hot on his tail. His cup of coffee was spilling all over the place and all over Bucky’s clothing. He didn’t even seem to mind it, throwing his head back in laughter._

_Steve caught onto Bucky’s shirt after chasing him for a good five minutes. He pulled him into his chest, and wrapped an arm around his waist from behind. “Gotcha.” He murmured into his boyfriend’s hair._

_Bucky turned around so he was facing Steve. He was so close that their noses were practically touching, millimetres away from kissing. He inched towards Steve’s mouth slowly before whispering. “No, you didn’t,” and poured the coffee over Steve’s head._

_Steve stood there in shock, and Bucky took the opportunity to sprint to the bedroom while giggling. “Bucky!” Steve shouted, laughter lacing his words._

Steve emptied the coffee into the sink, threw the mug in it afterwards, and then went back to his room. He locked the door behind him.

He didn’t even notice the mug breaking into small shards in the sink.

 

\------

 

Steve was actually getting better. Genuinely better. Even Sam, and his therapist agreed.

After Steve broke the mug, Sam decided to take matters into his own hands. He hit up one of his old friends from college, who was now a therapist. And a pretty good one at that.

He didn’t _force_ Steve, but he made it obvious how badly he needed something like this. Someone he could vent to, talk to, share with, without feeling constantly vulnerable. It took a few weeks of seeing the therapist, Dr Montez, but it helped him.

Sure, at first Steve thought that he was just going through a breakup, and who the fuck needs a therapist for a _breakup?_ But it was more than that, it was always going to be more. Bucky was a part of his life, and they grew up together in every sense of the word. It would be close to impossible trying to close that aching hole by himself.

Steve got out of bed, the sun shining through the curtains. Instead of closing them and trying to hide all of the light, he pulled back the blinds to fill more light into the room. He smiled, looking at the beautiful sunrise. The colours morphing from pink to orange, the slight lavender hue taking up the sky.

He went to the washroom, and brushed his teeth. He changed into his running clothes, and grabbed his phone before heading towards the kitchen.

Steve grabbed an apple, and took a bite out of it. “Sam?” He called out into the apartment. “You wanna go running with me today?”

He heard Sam groan from his bedroom, muttering something about _‘fucking morning people’_. Steve shrugged and headed out the door.

He was doing better.

 

\-------

 

**_Years Later_ **

“Hey, Sam, Do you know why I have all these messages on Tinder, when I’ve never even joined the site? Or downloaded the app?” Steve asked, feigning confusion. He was showing Sam his phone, and the _app that just fucking magically appeared._ At least Sam looked sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Okay, _look.”_ Sam started nervously, “It wasn’t me I promise.” He rushed, all in one breath.

“Then who _was it?”_ Steve demanded.

“It was Natasha! Don’t tell her I told you, okay? She scares me.” Sam revealed. Steve let out an exasperated sigh. _How did she even know his phone password?_ “She thought you needed to meet someone new.”

“I’ll date when I’m ready to, Sam.” Steve grunted.

“ _I know._ But she doesn’t. Just, like, don’t kill me. I tried to stop her, promise.”

“It’s okay, Sam. I’m just gonna call her later. I’m gonna go for a walk in a little, kay?” Steve ended the conversation, walking towards his bedroom.

He heard Sam scream, “Pick up pizza on your way back, I’ll pay!” He shut the door behind him.

He laid on his bed, counting the bumps on his ceiling for a few minutes.

Sure, he did want to meet someone, and he’d never admit it out loud but he _couldn’t_. He was over Bucky, sure, it’s been fucking years, but he wasn’t able to find the same connection with anybody else. He let out a loud sigh.

Steve just wants to feel _love_ so fucking badly. He can’t even remember what it was like to fall in love in the first place. He wants to fall in love again but he can’t. He can’t because Bucky’s all he would ever love, all he’s ever _known_ to love.

But how could Steve love him still when he barely remembers how his voice sounded? Exactly.

Steve shook out of his thoughts. It’s been ages since he’s even thought about Bucky, and he was doing perfectly fine without him. He just wished they had a proper ending, a conversation, _something_.

Steve pulled on a pair of loose sweatpants, and a perfectly fine (“ _No, it’s not overly tight and too small, Natasha”)_ fitting white t-shirt. A walk would help him clear his mind, it always does.

So, Steve took to the streets of Manhattan. He said ‘Hi’ to his neighbours when walking out of the building, double checking to make sure he had no mail.

He barely had any time to just go  _out_ lately, with work and everything. He missed it so much. The children running around, playing with their friends, the sun shining over every part of the city. The tall buildings littered in beautiful graffiti.

With ‘Sleeping At Last’ blasting through his earphones, no one could blame Steve for feeling so sentimental.

He was so stuck in his thoughts, walking around the city ( _his city)_ that he didn’t even realize when he bumped into someone. “Sorry!” Steve scrambled out right away, instantly feeling bad. It wasn’t until he took a step back before he realized who it was. “ _Bucky?”_ He asked incredulously.

“Steve?” Bucky replied, looking as shocked as Steve felt.

Steve chuckled. “Yeah, it’s me. What’s up? How’s it going?” He questioned, genuinely curious how his old best friend was doing. After all, they were best friends before they were anything else.

“I’m doing pretty okay, actually.” Bucky chatted, grinning. “How ‘bout you?”

“I’m not too bad, can’t complain.” They stood there for a second, both recollecting their thoughts, looking like complete idiots.

It wasn’t until Bucky looked at his watch and said, “ _Fuck!_ I need to go sorry.”, but didn’t make a move to move yet.

“It’s fine, don’t worry.” Steve consoled. “But do you maybe wanna grab coffee sometime this week? To catch up, and everything?” Wow, Steve was so proud of himself. He was so fucking _composed_ although on the inside he was everything but.

“I would like that.” He smiled fondly, and fuck. Steve missed that grin so fucking much.

“Thursday, then? It’s the only day I’m free this week.” Steve sputtered awkwardly. He was still in shock from Bucky standing in front of him.

“Thursday.” Bucky confirmed with a slight, nostalgic, smile. They programmed each other’s number into their phones, and promised to see each other soon. Steve felt his heart jump, and butterflies form in his stomach when they parted to go their separate ways.

Steve walked home in a daze. He wasn’t quite sure what just happened, if it was real or merely a figment of his imagination.

Real or not, it made him happy. Maybe the reason he wasn’t able to find anyone else was because he never had closure? Maybe he would finally be getting it.

He entered the apartment, and kicked off his shoes. “Sam,” He screamed out loudly into the room. “You wouldn’t believe what just happened.”

“ _What?”_ He heard Sam scream back from his room, followed by a loud crash, footsteps, and Sam stumbling out of his room. “Hey, where’s the pizza, man?”

“What was that loud crash?” Steve countered.

“Touche.”

“ _Anyways,”_ Steve started, steering the conversation back on track, “I just fucking bumped into Bucky. We’re gonna get coffee next week.”

“What?” Sam squawked, eyes widening. "You mean the same Bucky who broke your heart? And it took, hmm let's see,  _one entire year,_ to get over?"

"Um," Steve murmured. "Yes?"

Sam sighed from disappointment. "Just be safe, okay Steve? You spent so much of your time heartbroken over this man, I don't wanna see you that hurt again."

"Yeah, I know." Steve said, feeling sure of himself. "I promise."

 


End file.
